Save me
by Merthergirl
Summary: John's memories of rescuing sherlock. angsty with a happy ending. one shot. please read and review. T/M depending on sensitivity to violence :D


Save me

**A john x Sherlock angsty one shot with a happy ending! Please review and check out my other stories :D WARNING: GRAPHIC. T/M depending on opinion, for injury.**

"So how has the past week been?" his therapist leant forward slightly, lips slightly parted and pen hovering above her clipboard, ready to make a note of everything he said and did during the explanation.

"Good." John said, "Good."

She raised her eyebrows, "Anything happen to you you'd like to discuss? I see you've been neglecting your blog."

"I've been… busy." John swallowed.

"_Stop it! Please stop it! Please it hurts!"_

"Busy with what?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and staring intensly at the doctor, who shook his head.

_Tears spilled down a pale face, white teeth gritted and sweat beaded over the ivory skin as the man struggled against the bonds, arms twisting in an unnatural position that pained him and feet giving way. When they did he fell and didn't at the same time, ankles snapping audibly and crying out in pain as the chains on his wrists held him half-way to the floor, cutting deep circles into his tender flesh._

"You can tell me." She pressed on, smiling at him in a way that would have been comforting if they weren't in a therapist's office.

"There's nothing to tell." John said. There was not an ounce of truth in that statement, and she wasn't fooled.

"_Please." Sherlock whimpered, agony scourging through his body- it's source the knife plunged into his stomach, "I… don't want to- JOHN!" he suddenly yelled, hope in the name._

"Come on. You know it's better to tell then be sorry later." She said, concerned.

"_Where are you?" Sherlock muttered into the silence of the warehouse. Where was anyone? Moriarty and his gang of thugs had disappeared long ago, where were the police? Where was Watson? Where was his salvation? Sherlock groaned and tried to focus on something other then the blood dripping down his forehead and into his eyes- which he promptly closed- in hope it would help with the pain. _

"I… my friend Sherlock." John began then paused, a slight smile on his face. It was a peculiar smile, sadness and happiness in his eyes.

"_Sherlock!" It was John he was safe. Oh god he was safe and- fuck was that his intestine slipping out through the hole in his stomach? Sherlock swallowed and tried not to think about it. _

"_There he is!" Lestrade. Good. John had brought back up._

"_Moriarty may still be here." Sherlock warned as the metallic-tasting fluid dripped into his mouth languidly, disgustingly. Warm hands wiped it away and when his eyes opened they met John's._

"Nothing happens to us." John smiled.

_Sherlock was covered head to toe in blood. Whether it was all his wasn't important. His forehead was spilling the crimson liquid at an alarming rate due to the cut Moriarty had made himself with a pocket knife, and his hair was darker and matted with the stuff. His pupils were dilated with pain and his mouth swollen and cut. His neck was slit vertically on one side, in an attempt to kill him slowly in as much pain as possible, and both arms were dislocated. His wrists were torn and his ankles broken, his kneecaps smashed in with a hammer. His stomach was hanging open, a few vital organs on show. Moriarty's men didn't mind getting their hands dirty like their boss._

"Are you sure?" his therapist asked, "You do live in central London."

_It was alright though, Sherlock smiled, John hadn't failed him. the doctor, when alone together, kissed every ailment and explored the broken angel gently, making sure not to hurt him in any way, before curling up and drifting off to sleep beside him on Sherlock's bed. Sherlock didn't sleep. He was too busy watching John sleep. Watching every breath, every rise and fall of the chest, every movement every twitch and listening quietly to every exhale and inhale, every mutter and every sound the other man made._

"I'm sure." John smiled again, "Nothing at all happens to us."

"Us? You talk as if-" his therapist raised an eyebrow, "Does that mean?"

_Sherlock kissed the top of John's head and smiled._

"Yes." John smiled and thought of Sherlock.

His therapist smiled at the soppy, silly grin and took a few notes. He was progressing well, she thought.

**Please review :D**


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